"Do you know us all?" asked Mrs. Burnett, looking round. "Yes, I think
all but Lady Alice Mordaunt and Mr. Kirby."

"I have never had the pleasure of meeting Lady Alice Mordaunt
before"--with a graceful little courtesy--"but Mr. Kirby, though _he_
has forgotten me, I remember meeting him at Rumchuddar, when I first
went out to my poor dear papa. Perhaps you remember _him_--Captain
Dunbar, at----?" Thus said Mrs. Liddell, as she glided into her seat
between one of the Burnetts and a tall, big, shapeless-looking man with
red hair, small sharp eyes, a yellow-ochreish complexion, and craggy
temples, who had risen courteously to make room for her.

"God bless my soul!" he exclaimed, turning red--a dull deep red. "I
remember perfectly--that is, I don't remember _you_; I remember your
father. I'm sure I do not know how I could have forgotten you," with a
shy, admiring glance.

"Nor I either," cried Colonel Ormonde, who sat opposite. "Though Mrs.
Liddell does not seem to remember _me_."

"Why, I only saw you yesterday, and I am sure I bowed to you as I came
in." So saying, Mrs. Liddell lifted her head with a sweet caressing
smile to the eldest of the Burnett boys, who himself brought her some
pigeon pie; and from that moment she devoted herself to her new
acquaintance, utterly regardless of the hitherto tenderly cultivated
Colonel.

Kirby, a newly arrived Indian magistrate, was not given to conversation,
but he was assiduous in attending to his fair neighbor's wants, and
seemed to like listening to her lively remarks.